All from all

Come high the 

water, or grain van gogh colored plains

come its sin, come distance 

The spear in scruff to struggle

come the gavel or the charm 

the hard enough to hold 

the pardoning and scold we all must claim

and trot to passage in the black of qualia 

Come Niagara, come hell or love's coin 

come the

tumbling bone of ground,

come this army come right with legion's  

limitation 

Come that fence or line cut into the sidled circumstance 

come the sun and all that comes there 

in praise of justiculate onslaught

Come it all and think again when arms are strong enough to 

hold, strong enough to fold if necessary 

strong enough to pick up and leave

and simply choose to stay when the every inch in sinew 

says to simply walk away

Where is the heartened you 

in it all 

when that all in this that 

that dissolves

comes then 

Reviews

[Joli Dy]

I've read this three times tonight and like when viewing a painting, once I've taken it all in (this viewing), my eye will settle on the most interesting part, perhaps not in the center, nor upon the most beautiful. With Caravaggio, it can be the shadows in the folds of a draping garment that holds me captive. Here, it is: "Where is the heartened you"
That stands in every setting you lay out through the poem. It is the question we ask in the now, the yesterday, and assuredly in our every tomorrow. Perhaps it's the only question that matters... The only question that is relevant since it is pivotal to anything else we may ask.
And if we aren't asking it, are we even alive? I desperately want to know; where is the heartened me?

[Perdition]

Three times and you're still alive? I would venture the "heartened you" is at the end of your sleeve..the "heartened you" awakens to the fishermen, (I must believe)..to the nets and droplets as you lay your ink on the bottom of the river...the heartened me or anyone grabs that jacket just as you did, then invites the others in...What's missing? Thank you for your deep consideration and patience, there is always quite a lot of Mr. Pollock in my poetry. Smiles~

[Joli Dy]

And Eliot in mine. In fairness, I was mostly dead on third go. But only mostly dead. :)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

It isn't always about winning the battles, sometimes it makes more sense to walk away.
Maybe it takes more courage to do that.
If we know our limitations we might come to a better understanding of who we are and who we are supposed to be.
"justiculate onslaught"----great phrase.
j.

[Perdition]

Some of my greatest decisions have earned this title from walking away but now the older version asks how deep is the heart and how far that distance run as Kipling might ask, If? Seems damn sure further than sixty ticks. Complete agreement and thank you j.